I must not have hated Oberst's music as much as I thought I did, because I've kept up with Bright Eyes' every release out of what I thought was just morbid curiosity. It turns out that I had a love/hate relationship with him. I still find many of Oberst's vocal tics annoying, but I genuinely respect his lyrical ability. And since most bands, especially of the emo-bedwetting ilk, can't write their way out of a wet paper sack, I found myself admiring Oberst's uncanny way with words more and more.
As his star has risen over the past few years, many of the emotionally stunted sycophants that cherished Oberst's every quiver have abandoned ship because they realized he's not writing special, super-secret diary entries specifically for them anymore. (He never was to begin with, but try reasoning with an emo kid.) Oberst's pen may be pointing away from himself with greater frequency, and unlike legions of his die-hard fans, I actually prefer it that way.
Cassadaga is noticeably Oberst's most accomplished work on every level. It's slickly produced but not with the radio-friendly tricked-out sheen you'll find on any given meat-rock station. Instead, Oberst has found comfort in the alt-country domain of his masterful I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, and he stays there for Cassadaga, adding larger arrangements and a celebratory flourish of strings and pedal steel guitar. Oberst's mind is married to a generic political malaise that would cause an ordinary lyricist to flounder, but Oberst's phrasing and wordplay is still top notch, despite the tricky subject matter.
Oberst has succumbed to an inevitable musical maturation, which is anathema to his original teenage fanbase, but even those kids will look back on that time of their lives as an embarrassment the same way Oberst obviously does.
LP / CD / MP3
LP / Deluxe LP / CD / Deluxe CD / MP3